


touching

by miladys-winter (lykxxn)



Series: here at least we shall be free [3]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Daemons, F/M, Non Consensual Daemon Touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-29
Updated: 2015-12-29
Packaged: 2018-05-08 07:15:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5488433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lykxxn/pseuds/miladys-winter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time was an accident. The second time was entirely Ethan's fault.</p>
            </blockquote>





	touching

The first time was an accident. He hadn't actually meant to touch Ethan. His arm merely brushed his feathers as he went past.

At first, it frightened Constance. Nobody had touched Ethan except for her – not even Bonacieux had dared touch her dæmon, just as she had never dared touch his.

 It had frightened Ethan, too. He fluttered towards her chest and she cupped him in her hands, the two of them shaking slightly. Constance knew it was an accident, but it unnerved her all the same. She had heard terrible stories about how it felt to have someone touch your dæmon without your permission, but never in her life did she imagine it happening to her.

 D'Artagnan quickly burst out an apology. He was panicking – did it make him feel the same way? Despite not having a dæmon, did touching someone else's dæmon make him feel just as violated? Constance had always wondered what it felt like, to not need a dæmon. Then she could never be severed or separated. But she guessed that it would be a very lonely life, especially with everyone around you having dæmons.

 “Do you feel – different?” she asked him when the shock of d'Artagnan touching Ethan had worn off. “I mean, don't you get lonely?”

 D'Artagnan shrugged. “Not really,” he admitted. “Sometimes I wish I did have a dæmon, but I think I do, in a way. My dæmon's on the inside, rather than on the outside like you. I think it makes me less vulnerable. You can't take away my soul or use it to hurt me the way you can to other people.”

 Constance considered this. She never imagined that dæmons could be a vulnerability. All she had ever known was that she had Ethan, and Ethan had her, and they were one and nothing was supposed to change that.

 Later that night, when d'Artagnan had fallen asleep, Ethan murmured, “It wasn’t as bad as people say.”

 Constance considered this, running a finger across his feathers. “It didn’t hurt as much,” she said. “People say it’s like a sharp pain. This was more of a—”

“—dull ache,” finished Ethan wistfully.

They both knew why. They both knew why it wasn’t as painful for them as it was for other people. But they kept quiet about it, for Constance didn’t know how she could love someone without a dæmon.

* * *

The second time was entirely Ethan’s fault, Constance was sure of it.

D’Artagnan had just finished a hard day’s work, and had trained to the point of exhaustion. Constance had hurried him into a chair and Ethan was fluttering about anxiously, asking questions that he’d have asked d’Artagnan’s dæmon if he had one.

Constance shushed him as d’Artagnan’s face became pale and contorted with suppressed emotion.

“We had to separate,” said d’Artagnan quietly, answering the unspoken question Constance was about to ask. “So Athos went with Chenoa and Aramis with Tahiya. I had to go with Darcelle, and Porthos – Porthos was all alone because—”

He stopped to collect his emotions. “It was weird, having a dæmon. Like having a friend. Darcelle was scared and by God, I know I was. She kept trying to comfort me but I know she was worried about Porthos being alone. It made – it made me wish I had a dæmon. I’ve never felt alone before today. I—I don’t know why; being alone with someone’s dæmon made me imagine she was mine and—”

Before either of them knew what they were doing, Ethan had flown away from Constance and straight for d’Artagnan. Constance winced, expecting the dull ache like last time, but there was nothing. D’Artagnan gave a look of surprise, and very slowly lifted his hand to stroke Ethan’s soft feathers. Constance’s lip was trembling. This was it. This was the dæmon touching that everyone waited for. This was how people knew they were in love, or at least loved someone very dearly.

“Does it hurt?” she murmured.

D’Artagnan shook his head. “Not at all,” he said. “It feels – nice. You?”

“No,” she breathed, “I feel wonderful.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> For those of you who would like to know, Constance's dæmon is a nightingale.


End file.
